


whatever here that’s left of me

by frostykaden



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Schmoop, Trans Edward Elric, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-03 18:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21184136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostykaden/pseuds/frostykaden
Summary: Ed has been home from Creta for some time. He had not expected any of the things that would change. (Ed’s POV)Most days are good. Some nights aren’t. (Roy’s POV)





	1. whatever here that’s left of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has been home from Creta for some time. He had not expected any of the things that would change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I was rewatching and re-reading FMA, as one does, and because I am full of projecting, this happened. trans guy Ed, reconnecting after years of being apart, all the good stuff.
> 
> shout-out to Kromi for making amazing art and endlessly cheering me on.
> 
> **  
[here is the art](https://twitter.com/kromiprice/status/1187771392395231232)  
**

Being back in Central was strange, Ed had decided. He knew the city almost by heart, and his and Al’s old place had been dusty but welcoming, but after spending years in Creta, it felt like he had to relearn it. At Al’s urging (though secretly glad for it), he started by reconnecting with the old squad, all of whom seemed delighted to see them, and immediately abandoned all pretense at work in favour of listening to stories. Even Col— Brig— hm. That would take some getting used to. Even _General_ Bastard’s face lit up when they arrived, and Ed briefly bemoaned the fact that his teenage crush was back with a vengeance, but he was grateful that at least his body was not liable to betray him.

On that note, he still owed Roy – and he was _Roy_ now, not Mustang, with an undertone of rage or panic – those 520 cenz, which he was not giving back until the man kept his promise. What was more surprising, though, was that the two of them had somehow ended up having semi-regular lunches together, trading news, and alchemical tips, with Ed talking about alkahestry and Roy chiming in with his own observations, and Ed was… enjoying himself. Who’d have thought? Roy was a good conversationalist, and ever since Ed quit the military, their stance to one another had changed, becoming less tied to work and planning coups and more like a pair of friends who had gone through hell together and were now trying to live through peace.

The first time had been awkward, not knowing where they stood, with Ed carrying a weight of residual guilt for “choosing to put yourself first, brother, that’s healthy! And about time!” as Al had put it.

What Roy said was, “Edward, I have known you since you were a kid who attempted human transmutation, and I have admired you then. I would never think less of you for choosing to go your own way, doubly so because few people would weather what you had to live through, much less come out swinging.”

He also said some mildly optimistic but self-deprecating things about his own ascent through the ranks, and the changes that had and had not been possible.

“Fuck you, Roy, don’t you _dare_ put yourself down. I always knew you’d get all the way up there, why do you think I stuck with you and your band of idiots!”

When the topic shifted to family and partners, Ed had been surprised to hear that the notable flirt didn’t have anyone to go out with or go home to.

Roy shot him a wry smile.

“It turns out that when you fabricate an image of someone who will wine and dine you, and then meet someone else the following night, people aren’t exactly falling over themselves to date you.”

“But you had all those fucking girlfriends, Mustang!”

“Mostly informants, I’m afraid. Girls I knew from Madame Christmas, some I grew up with. It was mutually beneficial; I got news, they got a stress-free evening, and we went our own ways. But nobody stuck around. And it wasn’t very fair if I wanted someone and they couldn’t get all of me, what with my long-term plans and the Ishvalan reparations I’m overseeing. How about you, though? I thought Ms Rockbell—?”

“Nah, I mean… yeah, we dated, for a while, I thought she was _it_, you know, but we were still more like siblings or cousins than anything else, so we decided not to force it. She’s with Paninya now, they get along like a house on fire.”

At Roy’s puzzled look, he added, “She was a petty thief in Rush Valley, before Winry moved to work with Mr Garfiel. She convinced Paninya to give up stealing and try for honest work. Win’s like that; makes you want to do better. But also… she doesn’t really _get_ it, you know? The Gate and the Promised Day, and Truth… _You_ know, you were there for it. Most people don’t.”

“I do.” And Roy’s look was one of deep understanding. Ed was already deciding to keep a tight lid on his inconvenient feelings, and keep it light and friendly, to avert disaster.

* * *

Which is how he found himself on Roy’s doorstep, straight from a visit to Resembool through Rush Valley, bag in hand. Roy had invited him in; of course he had, the perfect asshole. “Just come by whenever, let yourself in, I live alone.” What a splendidly bad idea. Ed hadn’t even noticed his hand automatically catching the spare key.

So much for light and friendly.

He was still not a good cook, though, even if both his light motor as well as cooking skills have improved in Creta, so he stopped for food and wine on his way, putting Roy’s share in the oven to keep warm until he came back. Not _home_, decidedly, as this was not Ed’s home, and he should not have been feeling so damn warm about being in it.

He must have fallen asleep on the couch because he woke to a light touch on his shoulder.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Shit. Sorry for falling asleep, I wanted to wait up.”

“Don’t worry about it, you have the key for a reason, and you evidently needed it. When did you get back?”

“Just today. Went to see Winry and Granny, came straight here.”

Roy’s face was doing a thing. An interesting thing with a raised eyebrow and he looked like he was fighting a smile, but there was a peculiar softness there, too. Or Ed was still sleep-deprived. That must have been it. Roy walked away and Ed attempted to shake himself awake.

“You’re welcome to stay the night, we can call and let Alphonse know,” came Roy’s voice from the kitchen. “And take the bed, of course.”

Ed poked his head in.

“No way, _you_ take the bed, it’s your _house_!”

“You are my guest; I insist. Make an old friend happy, won’t you.” He was grinning shamelessly, the manipulative bastard. “Thank you for the dinner, by the way, I didn’t have time for lunch today.”

Ed grabbed the wine and two glasses and sat down at the table. “Don’t run yourself ragged, future Führer, you promised me something.”

A smirk. “Of course, sir.”

Ed was going to blame his blush on the heat. Yep. Definitely the heat in this house.

* * *

After dinner, Roy offered to move into the living room with the rest of the drinks and books, and stay by the fireplace. Ed walked in right as Roy was pulling on his glove. He didn’t turn his head at Ed’s uneven footsteps.

“I know I can do alchemy without a circle, after… well, after. But this is one of those things where the muscle memory is stronger,” Roy was saying. And then he snapped his fingers.

The fire blazed to life.

Roy finally turned around and his face fell when he saw whatever Ed’s expression was, Ed couldn’t really feel his face, and it felt like all his blood was rushing in his ears. Going lower. Much, much lower.

“Edward?” Roy paused as something seemed to dawn on him. “Oh. Ed… I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t trying to show off, or boast, I know you can’t, anymore—”

Ed distantly noticed his hands putting down the glass and the notes, and his feet carrying him closer, and why in the world was Roy apologising? He should do something about that, he really—

He crashed his mouth into Roy’s, and he was—

Kissing Roy—

Who was _kissing back_, and it was amazing, it was transcendent, it was hot and wet and the bastard _really_ knew how to use his tongue—

Who was putting his hands on Ed’s shoulders and slowly extricating himself. Why did he look so unhappy all of a sudden?

“Ed, you’re drunk.”

“_You_ kissed back,” Ed retorted, automatically. “And ‘m not drunk, I had two glasses, my coordination and all higher brain functions are _fine_, why did you stop?”

“Because we can’t— or at the very least we shouldn’t—”

Ed poked him in the sternum, none-too-gently.

“You’re not the boss of me, Mustang. You’re _not_, anymore, and I may not know what I’m doing, but I—” Ed took a deep breath and barrelled on. “I’m serious, and you know I don’t do things halfway, so just—”

Roy blinked. Was it a trick of the light or did his face lose some of the tension?

“If you don’t want to, I understand, but… I really… enjoyed that, and I hope I didn’t just ruin our friendship, but I would do it again—”

Roy stepped even closer, radiating heat. He lifted one hand to Ed’s face and tentatively put the other one on Ed’s waist.

“You mean it?”

Ed attempted to scoff. It was proving rather hard, because there didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the room.

“What kind of question is that, have you ever known me to say anything I didn’t mean?” he shot back.

Roy smiled, that soft smile Ed had been seeing more and more often lately, when they met for food and conversation.

“You have a point, Edward.”

And he was leaning forward, curling his fingers around Ed’s jaw, the tips of them brushing Ed’s hairline, and he was kissing Ed again, slowly, softly, deeply…

It was just as wonderful as the first one, maybe better, because this one wasn’t rushed, it was meticulous, and so _lovely_ Ed thought he might melt through the floor. Roy’s mouth was soft and warm, and so were his fingers, pulling the elastic off Ed’s ponytail, carding through Ed’s hair, everything so damn gentle, and so sweet.

When they parted, Roy was flushed, and breathing faster. And he was smiling, like it was the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Ed wasn’t much better off, his hands were still clutching at Roy’s shoulders where they seemed to have landed all on their own, and he felt a bit dizzy.

Roy licked his lips, and Ed thought he might faint if that happened again.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for,” Roy said.

Ed cleared his throat and didn’t take his hands away.

“Yeah? Tell me.”

Was Roy— blushing?

“Since… March.”

“March when?”

“The 21st.”

Ed’s eyes narrowed.

“The 21st of March… when?”

“1915.”

There definitely wasn’t enough oxygen in this room. In this house. In this country.

“That’s… the Promised Day.”

Roy looked like he was bracing for something. Something unpleasant.

“You’ve wanted to kiss me since the Promised Day of nineteen-fucking-fifteen?” Ed’s voice did _not_ just jump an octave. It did not.

Roy winced.

“I have. I’m sorry; I wasn’t going to do anything, but you looked so— tired, and you were alive, and you’d gotten Al back—”

Ed was going to strangle this man. This gorgeous, gentlemanly, dorky, extremely great kisser of a man.

“Why are you apologising? Oh my god!” He covered his face with his hands and peeked out from between his fingers. “You were the reason for my teenage sexuality crisis, I _hated_ you with your cocky smirk and the errands you had us do, and I lived with a person who never slept, do you have _any_ idea what it was like, seeing you with your stupid coat you never wore properly, and those _gloves_, Roy—”

The man in question huffed out a breath. His face had lost most of its tension, and he was smiling, albeit a bit crookedly.

“You’re one to talk, strutting around in those leather pants like the whole place belonged to you! And your hair…” He curled his fingers and tugged, lightly.

Ed’s voice betrayed him, and he moaned. Roy’s eyes flashed.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t cut it, you’re— fucking fixated,” he managed to stutter out.

“Lies and slander.” Roy grinned, and slowly, so slowly, pulled harder.

Ed was going to die here, in Roy Mustang’s living room, with Roy’s hand in his hair, and the other slowly inching down his waist.

The other… oh.

Roy tilted his head and leaned his forehead against Ed’s. His fingers hooked in one of Ed’s belt loops.

“Come to bed?”

As blank as Ed’s mind was rapidly getting, he carefully grasped Roy’s wrist, stopping him.

“I’ve never actually— um.” The ceiling. It looked nice this time of day. Ed was going to commit it to memory. Maybe paint something on it, liven it up a little.

When Roy’s voice came, it wasn’t angry, or disappointed, or judgmental. It was gentle. Like all of him that night.

“Ever?”

“People didn’t really want to deal with all of… this.” Ed gestured vaguely to himself.

Roy freed his hand from Ed’s hair, and Ed mourned its departure. Then the hand was on his cheek again, tilting his face towards Roy’s.

“Anyone who has ever rejected you or not seen you has been an idiot and a fool,” Roy said, sudden steel in his voice. Then he smiled again, like the goddamn sun coming out. “But it makes _me_ a very lucky man.”

Ed smiled back shakily, and he thought it might have come out more like a grimace.

“It’s not just the automail, and the arm. I’m not… like other guys, Mustang.”

A cocked eyebrow. “I already knew that.”

“No, not like— Here. Back up a little. Wait.” He made a shooing motion in Roy’s direction.

Obediently, Roy took his hands off Ed, and took a step back.

Ed steeled himself and started unbuttoning his shirt. A quick glance at Roy had him looking both puzzled and delighted. That probably wasn’t going to last much longer.

After there were no buttons left, Ed let the shirt slide off his shoulders, and caught it in his hands, wringing it, even though it was a nice shirt and didn’t deserve this kind of rough treatment. His leg had started to shake, so he felt behind him for the sofa, and sat down on the edge, hands in his lap, back straight, letting Roy see what he meant, what other scars he carried.

Bastard had a great poker face. Ed couldn’t do this, he couldn’t, it had been a terrible, bad idea, and it was going to end like all his other attempts, with a rejection and a slow, bitter walk home.

But Roy was stepping closer, in front of Ed, cautiously reaching out.

“May I?” he asked, solemnly.

Ed didn’t trust his voice at all, so it was all he could do to nod, jerkily.

Roy’s fingertips touched his chest, followed by his palms, pushing only slightly, the force a suggestion for Ed to lean back. He didn’t fight it. Roy still wasn’t smiling, but he also wasn’t kicking Ed out, so did that mean—?

Roy’s hands, running down Ed’s chest. Roy himself, bending down and kneeling between Ed’s legs. Roy’s mouth, following the path of his hands.

Ed gave up on ever feeling a molecule of air in his lungs again.

“Shit, Roy, what are you doing?” he managed to croak.

A flick of the tongue across the horizontal slash. Fuck.

“Mmm. What does it look like?” Roy looked up and his eyes were smouldering, no other word for it; there was a reason this man was _fire_.

“Don’t get smart with me! You’re not— you don’t—” _mind, don’t hate it, aren’t repulsed—?_

Roy kissed his chest again, before settling back on his heels, slowly unbending Ed’s fingers from the death grip he had on the poor shirt.

“I could never dislike anything about you, Edward. You’re perfect just as you are. Only tell me if I do anything you don’t like, please.”

Ed had died. That was the only logical explanation. He had died and gone to some sort of wonderful place, because he was here, half naked, and Roy was also here, and he wasn’t leaving, he was gazing up at Ed with something like adoration in his eyes.

The look morphed into one of concern after several long moments.

“…did I do something wrong?”

How could he _ask_ that? He was doing so many things _right_, he was _everything_.

“No! What the fuck, _no_, you didn’t.”

“Ed, you’re crying.”

Oh. Well. That explained the burning eyes, then. And Roy’s thumb rubbing at his cheek.

“…shut up.”

Roy smiled, a dazzling, brilliant smile.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise. Trust me?”

Bastard. “You know I fucking do.”

Roy tightened his grip on Ed’s hands. His eyes flicked down and his mouth twisted with displeasure.

“When did this happen?” he skimmed his hand over Ed’s side, where Ed had gotten impaled.

“Ah… chasing Kimblee, asshole had two Philosopher’s stones, and I fell. It wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences.” Understatement of the year.

Roy’s fingers twitched automatically, the long-ingrained response to snap and immolate waking up, almost _protective_.

Ed nodded towards Roy’s own waist, tragically still covered by his undershirt.

“You have one, from your fight with Lust, right? We match.”

Roy made a face that was a mix between horrified and highly amused, and shook his head, chuckling.

“…only you, Edward.”

The phone ringing made them both jump.

Roy stood up, albeit reluctantly, and walked to the receiver. Ed leaned back again and watched him go. He was really enjoying the view.

“Mustang speaking.” A sharp intake of breath. “Ah. Good evening, Alphonse.”

Wait, what.

“Yes, he’s here. I can put him on, if you want. All right. Oh. No, I assure you, that’s the last thing to cross my mind. Mhm. I believe you’re capable, and I’m holding you to that. Of course.” He turned towards Ed and beckoned him closer. Whatever he heard next made his eyebrows shoot up, and his cheeks colour, and he looked inordinately pleased. “Thank you. You have a good night too, Al.” He handed the phone to Ed.

“Imagine my surprise when you were late getting home,” chirped Al’s voice, sounding smugger than a cat that got the cream, and not at all surprised.

“Should I even bother getting a word in edgewise, or are you going to run to your friends in Central Command first thing tomorrow and collect your winnings from the betting pool?” Ed inquired. Roy’s face was doing a thing again. Ed really liked when Roy’s face did a thing.

“Wait, you knew about that?” A definite pout. How was that even audible?

“Of course I knew, you’re not exactly subtle. But… thank you for checking on me. What did you even say to him?”

“That’s between me and Roy, but if he keeps being the decent man he is, he has nothing to fear.” Ed dragged a hand down his face and shot a despairing look at Roy. “Have fun, brother, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Al almost sing-songed the last part, and hung up without much further ado, and Ed was going to do something unspeakable to that little meddler when he got home.

He put the receiver down and turned towards Roy.

“Were there threats?”

Roy looked a bit shifty.

“I wouldn’t say threats _exactly_… More like colourful warnings?”

Ed groaned and turned his eyes skyward. Roy stepped closer and wound his hands around Ed’s waist.

“Hey, it’s okay. He’s your brother, he cares about you. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He kissed Ed on the mouth, briefly. “Will you come to bed? We don’t have to do anything, we can just sleep.” He smiled, almost shyly. “I’d like to, with you.”

Ed was becoming disgustingly romantic, because he felt like a whole flutter of butterflies has taken residence in his stomach. Damn insects.

“I’d like that too,” he replied.

Roy extended his hand and wriggled his fingers, tugging Ed along when he took it. Walking upstairs took longer than it should have, because Roy kept pausing to kiss Ed’s neck, his face, squeeze the hand he was holding, and Ed was _floating_.

They only let go of each other for long enough to get changed and brush their teeth, Ed catching himself staring at the expanse of Roy’s skin and the muscles shifting underneath. He hastily looked away before he remembered that apparently he could watch now, and he could touch, so he did, and the sound Roy made was a reward of its own.

Ed’s shoulder twinged when he bent to put on Roy’s shirt. He winced and rolled it, trying to loosen the tense muscles.

“Are you all right?” Roy asked from where he was sitting on the bed.

“I’m fine, it’s just that sometimes my arm gets cold. Some of the screws and plating remained, when the Gate gave it back.”

“Hmm. Let me try something?” Roy patted the bed. “Come here.”

Ed shot him a curious look, but climbed under the covers after him.

“What did you have in mind?”

Roy put his hands on Ed’s shoulders and pushed him onto his back, with a calculating look on his face, aimed at the offending arm.

Then he pressed his palms together and said, “This.” His left hand made contact with Ed’s skin again and warmth flooded Ed’s arm, from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers, tingling slightly.

“Holy shit, Mustang,” Ed breathed out.

Roy was looking at him intently, with a trace of smugness in his smile.

“Better?” he asked.

In lieu of answering, Ed wrapped his arms around him and drew him down for a kiss. It was swiftly becoming his favourite way of answering questions and shutting Roy up at the same time.

“It’s going to be difficult to watch you do alchemy in public,” he rasped. “I’m gonna want to do that all the time now.”

Roy looked fucking delighted at the prospect. He nuzzled under Ed’s chin, humming.

“Sounds like a splendid idea to me,” he said, grin in his voice. “But—” He hoisted himself up and leaned over to look at the pocket watch on the bedside table. “—we should maybe sleep. You had a long day.”

Ed glared half-heartedly from where he was trying to stifle a yawn.

“You just want to cuddle me for longer, Mustang,” he said, mock-accusingly.

Roy put his hands on his chest, looking deeply shocked. “Me? Perish the thought.” But the surprise was wiped away instantly, in favour of a wink.

Ed was in deep. And enjoying every second of it.

He darted forward to kiss Roy’s mouth, and turned onto his side, tucking himself in. Roy’s arm tentatively snaked around his waist, settling on his stomach, his body molding itself to Ed’s back. He kissed the nape of Ed’s neck.

“Good night, Edward.”

Ed relaxed into the embrace, closing his eyes.

“Good night, Roy.”

* * *

Ed woke up to a warm weight on his side. A quick glance confirmed that it was Roy’s arm holding him close, and the rest of Roy attached to it was sleeping behind him. Although…

“I know you’re awake, your breath is too regular for sleep.”

A huff of air against his skin, betraying a smile.

“Guilty as charged.”

There seemed to be other parts of Roy that were awake as well, like a searing hot brand against the small of Ed’s back. Ed shifted his hips experimentally. Roy’s arm tensed briefly, before he attempted to shuffle away.

“Sorry, sorry—”

Ed’s arm slung back, hand landing on Roy’s ass, stopping him. “Why are you sorry? Stop being sorry, and don’t go anywhere. Plus,” his traitorous mouth added, “it’s not as if you can help it…”

Roy stopped trying to escape and settled back down.

“With you in my bed like this? I really can’t.” He kissed the skin behind Ed’s ear.

Ed lifted his arm off Roy’s ass – with regrets, making a mental note to make up for it later – and put his hand over Roy’s, still on his stomach, slowly sliding it lower, until it brushed his waistband.

Roy paused with the kisses, his nose in Ed’s hair. “You’re sure?”

Ed nodded and exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

He pointedly tilted his hips back when it seemed Roy was still hesitating, which got him a sharp intake of breath and a curse.

Then Roy’s arm pulled him impossibly closer, his legs finding their way between Ed’s, to tangle them together, and he drew his fingernails down Ed’s navel, dragging the underwear out of the way.

And then Roy’s fingers were on him, touching, rubbing, exploring. Ed flung his arm back, grabbing onto Roy’s thigh, feeling like he would shake apart if he didn’t have an anchor.

Roy moaned low in his throat and hitched his hips, pressing them together harder, grinding against Ed’s ass. One of his fingers slid inside Ed, shortly followed by another, and then they _curled_, and Ed was going to explode.

“You can make noise, you know,” Roy murmured, rubbing his thumb against Ed more firmly, and he nipped at Ed’s neck.

Ed stopped trying to stay quiet, and gasped. Then Roy moved his mouth and bit down harder, and the gasp turned into a moan, the feeling of Roy’s fingers and his teeth overwhelming.

Ed knew what those hands had done, and he understood it well, but he much preferred them doing _this_ instead.

Roy was sucking a mark into Ed’s throat, rolling his hips, his fingers playing Ed like a goddamn musical instrument, never predictable, always amazing, and Ed was going to—

He was—

“Ah— Roy—”

The man _growled_.

“Let go for me, Edward,” he said, voice rough, mouth smearing kisses on Ed’s skin. “Please. Let me feel you.”

Ed never thought he was going to see stars going supernova behind his own eyelids, instead of in the vastness of space.

After his hips had stopped jerking on their own, and the rest of him wasn’t twitching anymore, Ed turned around in Roy’s arms, fingers grasping ineffectively at his shirt. He opened his mouth, and Roy chose that moment to bring his own hand to his lips, closing his mouth around his slick fingers and licking them clean.

Ed had nearly gotten his mental faculties back, but seeing that made his voice die in his throat.

Roy smiled beatifically at him, as if he hadn’t just made Ed come, and then done _that_, as if the first thing _alone_ hadn’t been enough to turn Ed into putty and make his brain feel like it was about to ooze out of his ears.

“I wish I could have seen your face. I bet you looked gorgeous when you came.” It should be illegal for people of Roy’s ilk to say these things, Ed thought. “But… there’s always next time, if you want.”

Ed’s response was something between a squeak and a whimper that he was going to deny forever.

“Next time?”

“Very many of them, I hope. I’m not going anywhere, and you’re welcome to stay for as long as you want.” Roy kept smiling. He was fucking beautiful. “How does that sound?”

Ed fisted his hands in Roy’s shirt and yanked. He wasted no time employing his favourite method of answering, lurching forward to shove Roy onto his back and kiss him hard, morning breath be damned.

After they parted, Ed managed to say, “Good morning,” against Roy’s mouth.

Roy had closed his eyes, and he was blinking them open, the heat in them a banked flame. “Mm. ‘Good’ is an understatement.”

Which is when Ed noticed that Roy was still hard against his stomach. He flicked his eyes down, biting his lip, and then looked back up.

Roy kept smiling, though, giving no sign that he minded being neglected.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

For a person intending to rule the country, he was an idiot sometimes.

“Are you kidding me? I… did that to you. That’s so… _hot_.” Ed bared his teeth in a wild grin. “My turn now.”

The coals that were Roy’s irises _blazed_.

“You said you haven’t done this before,” Roy said.

Ed felt an embarrassed flush rising up to his cheeks.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Roy continued before Ed could say anything. “Only… allow me?”

He took Ed’s hand, guiding it to touch him, and Ed’s blush suddenly had an entirely different reason.

Feeling daring, he straddled Roy’s hips, stifling his giddy laughter over the terrible “riding the Mustang” joke that came unbidden into his mind. Going by the quirk of Roy’s lips, he knew full well what Ed was thinking, and he rolled his eyes, fondly.

The moment lasted until Ed wrapped his fingers around Roy, and stroked. Roy made a sound like all air had been punched out of his lungs, and his hips bucked. Bold, Ed leaned forward to brace against Roy’s chest and slide his tongue into Roy’s mouth, tightening his grip. Roy’s hand left Ed’s and eased under Ed’s underwear, securing a firm grip on his ass, the other sliding into his hair – the man really was obsessed. Ed couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

Torn between watching the movement of his hand and Roy’s face, Ed opted for the second one, watching the play of emotions, the twitch of muscles, the panting, and the reactions to Ed’s every touch.

Roy came hard, with Ed’s name on his lips, his fingers tangled in Ed’s hair, pulling hard, his nails leaving crescent marks on Ed’s skin. The sight alone was enough to make Ed drenched again, but coupled with the pleasure-pain of Roy’s hands, he was a mess. Distantly, he caught himself hoping he would be allowed to wake up like this every chance he got.

* * *

Later, having cleaned up, Roy phoned Command to call in ‘sick’. Ed was standing next to him, and he distinctly overheard Riza say, “About time, sir.”

Blushing looked good on Roy.

Over breakfast, he plucked the coffee jug from Roy’s hands, pouring himself a whole mug, and wrinkling his nose over the milk Roy was choosing to add into his cup. Waste of good coffee, if you asked Ed.

Roy stuck his tongue out at Ed when he caught him making a face. Then he looked thoughtful for a brief moment, as if attempting to phrase something delicately. Ed waited.

“…you got taller, I didn’t expect that.”

Ed wasn’t having any residual rage feelings over people’s comments about his height. He waved his hand.

“Turns out your growth gets stunted when you’re eating and sleeping for two and don’t know it.”

“But you’re still—”

Ed may have been having some feelings after all.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Roy Mustang, or I will kick you. With my _left_.”

The General smiled innocently. Incorrigible.

“—a perfect height, dear.”

Ed’s face was on fire. Which was only fitting, he supposed.

“…sap.”

They ate in silence for a while, until Ed broke it.

“Yes.”

“Hm?”

Ed fidgeted, drumming his fingers on the table.

“It’s a yes. To the… next times. And shit.”

Roy beamed at him.

“I’m looking forward to it all very much. And shit.”

With Roy looking like that, and saying those things, the only thing left for Ed to do was lean across the table and shut him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed’s trans because I am, but as usual, my lived experiences do not reflect everyone else’s.
> 
> lyrics from Hozier’s _As It Was_ because I am that kinda person. and no, I do not care that I couldn’t make it fit perfectly, I’m bi and emotional and that’s enough.


	2. the drug, the dark, the light, the flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most days are good. Some nights aren’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we... kept talking, and then made it sad. both of these people have been human sacrifices, and I wanted to know the marks it left.
> 
> there’s nightmares, war crimes, blindness, general trauma, and the personification of the universe being creepy as fuck. heed the warnings, people.

Roy should have known the peace wasn’t going to last.

That first night had been wonderful; he had forgotten just how nice it was to sleep next to a person. The morning after, even better.

Then, a few days later, lounging in bed, Ed had asked about his gloves.

“Why do you keep them downstairs? I mean, why keep them at all now, I guess, but why not have them more on hand?”

Roy smiled grimly and beckoned Ed to lean towards the window.

“You see these?” he pointed at the faint scorch marks on the wall. “You know I need a spark regardless of the circle. This is what happens when I have the spark.” He rubbed the scars on his palms. “I think it was a bird, but it woke me up and I saw something else.”

He glanced at Ed, bracing himself for judgement, or worse, pity. Ed’s eyes were wide, but showed neither of those things.

Roy had already had nightmares from the war. The sand, the flames, the blood, the screams ringing in his ears. But sometimes he forgot that Ed had seen things too, that he knew what it’s like to dream of a wide grin in an empty whiteness.

Ed gnawed on his lip for a second, and then wriggled away from Roy, scooting higher on the bed and opening his arms. Roy fell into them, gratefully.

* * *

“Roy. _Roy._”

He was _there_ again, his clothes were full of sand, and there were charred corpses at this feet. He was looking down at them, wishing it had never come to this. When he looked back up, he was nowhere, and in that nowhere sat a silhouette. The creature it belonged to stood up, its mouth stretched into a mocking smile, impossibly wide.

“**You were prepared to pay when you first took up the military mantle and pulled on the gloves. This is the price, Flame Alchemist.**”

It opened its eyes and his own were looking back at him. That was the last thing he saw before he was plunged into darkness.

“_Roy!_”

He knew that voice.

“Roy, _please_. Wake up.”

“…Ed?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Look at me.”

“I—”

He felt Ed’s body shift and a hand carefully touch his shoulder.

“You kept saying you couldn’t see. I need you to open your eyes for me,” came Ed’s voice, sounding only a little shaken.

Roy obeyed. How could he do otherwise?

He saw Ed’s outline against the bedroom wall, his eyes glinting from the lamplight streaming in through the window.

“There you are.”

Roy wet his lips.

“Please, can I…?” He reached for Ed, clenching and flexing his hand to keep his fingers from trembling.

Ed pulled him close wordlessly.

For a while they only breathed, Ed running his palm up and down Roy’s back.

“You were repeating that you were sorry. Were you back there?” Warmth on his shoulder blade. Indescribably better than the heat of the sun beating down on him. Incomparably good.

“That’s where I often end up. Sometimes it’s just them, sometimes it’s worse. Sometimes there’s you, and Al, and Riza, and Maes, dead by my hands.” He drew in a breath. “I can never be sorry enough.”

“But you didn’t hurt any of us. Maes was not your fault.” A beat, a sigh. “And you can’t undo things you’ve done, or save the people you failed. You can only keep going.” They both knew what he was talking about.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Roy whispered.

Even in the dark, he saw Ed look at him incredulously.

“You saw me when I was way worse off, and missing fifty percent of my limbs. I know you.” He stroked Roy’s hair. “And I asked Hawkeye, about the war, before.”

Roy’s insides briefly turned to ice.

“…and?” he made himself ask.

Arms squeezed him tighter.

“Well I’m still here, aren’t I.”

As if it was that simple. And maybe, in a way, it was. They both knew pain. Roy had killed scores of people and then was dragged through the Gate for a madman’s plan and lost his sight to it, but Ed went almost willingly, twice, got his brother and his limbs taken from him, and then kicked it open once more. He knew more about sacrifice than Roy ever would.

* * *

There were always going to be bad times, times when they felt flayed open, naked and raw. Roy would wake up, having flung himself over Ed in an attempt to protect him from the gunfire. Ed would clap his hands and then heave a sob when nothing happened, curling into Roy’s chest.

But they understood each other, more than most. There was trust there, and companionship. They kept each other honest, and the stubbornness that had always meant arguments and yelling until Riza put a stop to it also meant they wouldn’t leave each other stranded.

Maybe… that was enough. They were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies in case they’re needed, because I have never written about PTSD, and I only know what I had researched.
> 
> …lyrics still from Hozier.


End file.
